


Inhale, Exhale

by DictionaryWrites



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 09:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Mac’s never given weed a try. Dennis is high as fuck, and makes him try it.---“Okay, but you gotta keep this secret, man. I split it with ya, fifty-fifty because like, I gotta be honest, man, I can’t do secrets too good, but you gotta keep it secret even though I can’t, ‘cause like-““Charlie, just spit it out, man,” Dennis says. Charlie spits a grey piece of gum onto the table, and inwardly, Dennis feels the urge to scream. There’s a long pause between them, and Dennis says, quietly, “What you wanted to say, buddy.”





	Inhale, Exhale

“Fuckin’ Country Mac, man,” Charlie says, after the whole charade is over. Frank day, thank God, has finally come to an end, and Dennis has never been more grateful to have scheduled Dee day at the beginning.

Dennis, of course, has no need of a dedicated day. He ensures the others don’t think too much as to _why_ that is.

“A brave soldier, lost to the ages,” Dennis says mildly, tipping his beer in the direction of the ceiling. “Kinda stupid he didn’t wear a helmet, though.” Charlie sighs, nodding his head and dropping into the seat beside Dennis. After a second or two, he grins widely, looking at Dennis from the side, as if he’s got something to hide.

“What is it, Charlie?” Dennis asks, and Charlie gives an awkward little giggle, wriggling in his seat. Dennis glances to the door of Paddy’s, but there’s no one there. Frank and Dee had gone into the city to do… Something that Dennis had decided not to listen to. Mac, according to Dennis’ most recent text alert, is in the mall and buying groceries. Dennis is going to have to re-do this chore, he’s aware, as Mac will buy all of the wrong brands despite Dennis’ detailed list, but sometimes he lets Mac feel useful.

“Okay, but you gotta keep this secret, man. I split it with ya, fifty-fifty because like, I gotta be honest, man, I can’t do secrets too good, but you gotta keep it secret even though I can’t, ‘cause like-“

“Charlie, just spit it out, man,” Dennis says. Charlie spits a grey piece of gum onto the table, and inwardly, Dennis feels the urge to scream. There’s a long pause between them, and Dennis says, quietly, “What you wanted to _say_ , buddy.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Charlie huffs. “Yeah, yeah, thought it was weird.” Charlie reaches into his jacket, fumbling through one of the ridiculously deep pockets which, in fact, is just a rip in the coat’s lining. Then, Charlie drops a huge bag of weed on the table. “Country Mac dropped this.”

Dennis grins.

 ---

“Hey, Dennis, so I know you said you wanted the Gilette shaving cream, but it was pretty high up on the shelf and I didn’t want to call a guy and I couldn’t see a stool or anything, so I just got you this off-brand stuff instead, and then I didn’t get the Lactofree, or the Donaldson… Actually, I didn’t get a lot of the brand stuff ‘cause you kinda pick stuff that’s in awkward places, man, and—” Mac stops talking, hovering in the doorway with a paper bag balanced on his left hip and a plastic one hanging from his right hand. Sprawled on his back, shirt unbuttoned to the navel, and with a spliff hanging loosely from his left hand, is Dennis.

His eyes are half-closed and his lips are parted, the surface of them shining with split. The heel of Dennis’ other hand presses against his crotch, where his cock is hard under the denim of his jeans, and then drops loosely to his side. Mac’s own mouth goes dry.

“S’okay, man,” Dennis says in his lightest and most breezy tone. “I’m just smoking.” It had taken a moment to hit him, but now Mac smells the weed in the air: it fills the apartment in a thick, queasy cloud, and he twists his mouth, dropping the paper bag on the counter and throwing his other bag onto the stool. As he irritably begins to unpack the groceries, he presses his lips together.

What the Hell does Dennis think he’s doing?

It’s like, three in the afternoon, and there’s Dennis, high as fuck on the couch, and hard and not even jacking off! Not- not that Mac wants him to be jacking off. Obviously, that would be worse – it’s more that it’s weird that Dennis _isn’t_ jacking off, given that…

Look, he doesn’t need to be thinking about this.

“You went out and bought weed, man? You haven’t smoked that shit since high school.”

“Charlie got it off Country Mac,” Dennis says, following the statement with a little giggle. “That’s a secret, though.” He brings the base of the spliff to his mouth, drawing his lips slowly around it and inhaling. The hollow of his throat shifts as he does so, and he tips his hips up slightly, letting out a soft moan that is _not_ normal for a guy smoking some weed. “You want some?”

“No,” Mac says, dropping milk onto the shelf in the fridge and crumpling up the paper bag, throwing it into the trash. “I don’t _want_ any of Country Mac’s weed, damn it.”

“What’s your problem with weed, Mac?” Dennis asks, abruptly sitting up on the couch. His dick is still hard, and Mac tries not to look at it. “You like, never get high with us, you know? Like, even in high school, you were always like, _nah_ , man, I don’t wanna get high like that, but why don’t you wanna get high?”

“I just don’t like smoking,” Mac answers, shrugging his shoulders. He sees something cross over Dennis’ face, sees him squint his eyes slightly and then open his mouth a little wider, his tongue pink. God, Dennis’ tongue is pink.

But Mac isn’t gay. He _isn’t_ gay, he _isn’t_ gay, and he’s having flashbacks to being sat around the bleachers after school, watching the guys put their mouths around cigarettes or even worse, Cuban cigars that Schmitty stole from the rich guy slamming his mom, and always leaving when they tried to offer him some.

‘Cause Mac isn’t fucking gay, okay?

“C’mere,” Dennis says. He’s grinning. Goddamn it. Country Mac had to come and show Mac up, even though Mac won a _genuine_ point in a real-life fucking karate competition, even though Mac is _completely_ badass, and now the bastard’s dead, stupid homo, and he had to leave all his damn weed behind. “C’mere, Mac, _come here_ , man.” Dennis chuckles a little more, and reluctantly Mac comes forward and drops onto the couch next to him. Dennis leans over, taking a long drag of the joint before setting it down in a crystal ashtray that does not match the décor of their apartment, and as he exhales, he reaches out.

Dennis’ hands are warm and dry against Mac’s jaw, brushing through the bristles of his beard and cupping the sides of his face, and God, Mac just feels like melting when Dennis does this to him, even when Dennis is high as a bottlerocket and rocking a boner.

“You ever tried it?” Dennis asks. His voice is soft and laden with intensity, and Mac feels himself swallow hard. Dennis’ gaze drops to Mac’s throat, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple ( _sin, **sin**_ , original sin, Bible, Genesis, Adam in the Garden of Eden and cast out because of Eve, that dumb bitch, and Adam naked and with a little leaf over his cock, and Adam looks kinda like Rex, and he isn’t wearing a shirt, and _shit,_ shit, shit—), and Mac wants to lean back, but Dennis just clutches a little harder at his neck. The pads of his fingers press into his skin, and Mac kind of wants to scream.

“Yeah, sure,” Mac lies.

“You ever tried a cigarette?” Dennis asks, grinning. His teeth are white, and kind of sharp-looking – Mac’s seen some of the videos Dennis has taken, where he drags his teeth over the shoulders of the girls he’s banging, leaving marks and making them whine and writhe.

“What the- yeah, man, of course I’ve tried cigarettes. God damn it, let me just—” Dennis leans in closer, so that the smell of weed mixes in Mac’s nose with the smell of Dennis’ cocoa-heavy cologne and floral shampoo, so close that Mac can feel Dennis’ breath over his own lips. “Dennis, no offence, but weed kinda makes you into a fag, so—”

“Why don’t you try inhaling?” Dennis asks. Mac stares straight into Dennis’ eyes, which are bright blue and slightly red-rimmed, so that he doesn’t look down at Dennis’ hard dick. ‘Cause sometimes they get off together in the same room, and Mac glances at it, but this is different.

They’re _facing_ each other.

“What if I take a drag, and then I blow into your mouth?” Mac lets out a little noise that’s kind of high-pitched, and Dennis takes it as an assent. He leans back, grabbing the joint and taking a long, long drag, longer than the ones Mac saw him take before, and he keeps his mouth closed as he comes back to Mac. Dennis puts his hands around Mac’s neck again, holding him tightly, curling his fingers into Mac’s hair, and Mac wants to whine. Dennis leans in, leans in like he’s going to kiss Mac, and Mac opens his mouth to keep from crying. Dennis blows the smoke into his mouth, and Mac takes it in.

There’s a hint of something else in the weed smoke – bubblegum? Candy? – that Mac doesn’t expect, and he takes a little of it into his lungs before exhaling. He feels the rush in his head, feels the weird taste on his tongue, and he feels Dennis’ giggle against his mouth as much as he feels it.

“You happy now?” Mac demands. “I need to do the rest of the—”

Dennis kisses Mac full on the mouth, and Mac groans. If Mac wanted to melt when Dennis put his hands on Mac’s neck, now Mac is like ice cream in August: Dennis’ tongue is wet and slick over Mac’s own, over his lips, and Dennis tightly holds at his neck, digs his nails into the skin as if he’s going to scratch him.

Mac is ashamed of how he stiffens with excitement at the thought.

It goes on forever, adding to the light-headed rush in his skull, and when Dennis pulls back, Mac stares at him, his mouth still open.

Dennis giggles.

“Weed gets me hot,” Dennis says, and he giggles some more.

Mac lets out a noise like a deflating balloon, stands from the couch, and rushes as fast as he can to put the groceries away. His dick is half-hard in his pants, but he doesn’t touch it, doesn’t look at it, and definitely doesn’t think about Dennis’.

He never wants to think about this again, _never_.

And when Dennis unzips his jeans on the couch and just starts jacking himself off, right there, _right there_ —

Mac wonders if he’s ever going to stop thinking about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are open if you have any! Info about them is [right here!](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/post/160853818533/request-commission-information)


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